“And that’s why whenever we see American spelling in Britain, we should take hostages and make some sort of stand,” finished William Shakespeare, dabbing at the corner of his mouth with a paper napkin.

“Mmm,” said Sophie Ellis-Bextor absent-mindedly.

“What?” snapped Shakespeare. “Am I boring you?” He glared at Ellis-Bextor who didn’t return his look for a moment, choosing instead to gaze at something back and left of the bard.

“Well, it’s not massively interesting,” she said, bluntly. “I mean, I’m really not into all that English stuff. That’s your thing.”

Shakespeare straightened his jerkin. “Yes, well, your 2010 single ‘Off and On’ rather highlighted that fact. Tell me again why you used an ampersand.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Ellis-Bextor dismissively. “Everyone knows what it means. What does it matter?”

Shakespeare closed his eyes and snorted theatrically. When he looked back at her, she was again looking over his shoulder. “What is it?” he muttered in irritation, craning his neck to look round.

“It’s Shovell from M-People,” said Ellis-Bextor. “We used to have a friend in common. Maybe I should go over and speak to him.”

“Why are you looking at him like that?” The bard’s voice was nervous and uncertain.

“Oh, you know. Just because it’s someone I know.”

“You never pay attention to me any more,” said Shakespeare. “You never properly pay me attention. You’re there in body, but your mind’s elsewhere. You’ve cut off all affection and all I get is this shell. I don’t want a shell.”

Ellis-Bextor was suddenly focused. “You like it when I’m lifeless and unemotional.”